


Treehouse

by thepeskyunicorn



Series: THB fanwork week [6]
Category: History Boys (2006)
Genre: M/M, a moment of quietness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a rambly fic on Pos and Scripps in a treehouse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treehouse

**Author's Note:**

> THB fanwork week - Day 6

The wooden boards of the treehouse had long ago numbed his arse, even with the stack of saggy cushion padding it. Scripps burrows deeper into the blanket nest nonetheless and tries to stuff another cookie in his mouth while balancing a book on his knee and snuggling closer to Posner. Flipping a page with his free hand, he absent-mindedly feeds his other half of the cookie to Posner at the other boy's insistent nudging.

The dark blue duvet that they had dragged up the tree an hour earlier is littered with crumbs. It fits in with the theme of discordant harmony that resonates in the small area, with a scattered assortment of half-read books and empty tins of tea. The windows in the north and south of the small space lets in the sunlight and the soft, worn curtains provided a soft lightning, just enough to make out the motes of dust dancing in the air.

A clumsily hung corkboard, crammed with movie posters and inspirational quotes, took up the west side. Scripps still remembers the times when they scribbled down plot lines to ridiculous fancies and infantile inside jokes that nonetheless, still makes him smile.

The insulating layer of memories and comfort, together with the mass of pillows and blankets pooling around them, kept out most the chill of the late autumn air.

Sheffield isn’t particularly different from when they have left it, but coming back for the break is an exercise in nostalgia that neither of the boys are ready for. Oxford had been exhilarating, with the new and old weighing down on their shoulders, set stiff with the expectation of propriety, only to have them loosen at the comforting scent of a recently remembered past.

And with this slow unspooling of tension came Posner’s casual suggestion of visiting their treehouse, build on a summer whim with their fathers and the prime source for comfort and acceptance. It is something they always return to, regardless of age, and Scripps had been surprised but willing. He helps by lugging the stacks of poetry and novels and textbooks while Posner provided refreshments.

The old treehouse looks the same as always, tucked snugly within the second topmost branches, sturdy despite the inelegant attempt at piecing it together.

If he concentrates hard enough, Scripps could almost see the faint outlines of their ten year old selves, decked in cloaks and hats, acting out their favourite characters. The bottom of the tree where Posner fell when he first tried to climb it, and the resulting fit of crying and Scripps’s distressed attempts to cheer him up. It finally ended with a compromise - Scripps will boost the then smaller Posner up the tree, and Posner will pull him up afterwards. They still follow this arrangement now, out of habit.

And in this bubble of infinite moment, it’s as close to perfection as they can get. There is a lightness in the air, dancing across the treehouse and wrapping itself around them, a cumulation of their memories, hopes, and dreams. There is still a world out there to face, still the tearful nights and stressful hours, times where they can only cling to the other and hope for the best. But now, with a warm weight against his chest and the soft stoking of his love next to him, Scripps is finally content.


End file.
